


False Starts

by insanity_by_proxy



Series: Modern Magic AU (Dragon Age) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Little Bit of Drama Right at the End, Mage Rights, Modern Thedas, Mostly Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-04-02 09:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4055485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanity_by_proxy/pseuds/insanity_by_proxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Anders really should have just asked Hawke out, and one time she beats him to it. </p><p>Modern Magic AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, ground rules of this AU: this universe is a modern Thedas but still with plenty of mage rights issues. Anders is a bisexual nurse with a very rocky past. (So, not much change there.) Hawke is the heir to the Amell family fortune/daughter of famous mage-rights activist Malcolm Hawke, but she still wants to make a difference by getting involved in politics herself despite the fact that she doesn’t have to work a day in her life if she doesn’t feel like it. Bethany and Carver are both alive. Bethany is doing her undergrad in nursing, and Carver is mostly just fooling around and getting into trouble. More to be revealed in the text/in future stories.

There’s this girl who just moved into Anders’ building, and Anders had this _horrible_ crush on her. He doesn’t know her name, he doesn’t even know which floor she lives on, but she’s _gorgeous_ and he’d probably be willing to cut off a foot just for the chance to talk to her.

He glimpsed her for the first time in the foyer of their building on his way out to work. She had been coming in; checking over her mail, not watching where she was going, and she ran right into him nearly spilling his afternoon coffee. Anders had been set to growl something nasty when she pinned him with this incredible smile; sparkling blue eyes full of mirth and the tiniest hint of a cheeky tongue peeking out between her teeth. She laughs out an apology and says something witty that Anders’ can’t quite remember. But he knows she said _something_ good, because he’s still grinning by the time he gets to his car.

He’s been _longing_ for glimpses of her ever since. 

It’s unhealthy. He knows this. He thinks it has something to do with the fact that he doesn’t get enough sleep, or enough to eat, and that he drinks _way_ too much caffeine, and it probably has something to do with the fact that the last time he had a romantic encounter with anyone he was still with _Karl_. But he hasn’t started stalking the halls hoping to bump into her yet, so he figures that his crush really isn’t _that_ weird.

 _Yet_.

It was around this time that the fantasies started. What was odd about them is that they’re not even particularly sexual in nature, they’re just: her standing next to him in line at the coffee shop, holding his hand and giggling with him over some stupid joke he’s just made like a pair of people in love. Or: he’s at work and a call comes in about a motor vehicle accident not far away; a lorry plowed into the passenger side of a small sedan that ran a red light, perhaps. The driver is alive but scathed and is being brought in to be properly cared for…

_The doors burst open a few minutes later and a young man with dark hair is wheeled on a gurney into the A &E and there is a sudden flurry of activity on this otherwise slow day. _

_Whilst Anders runs to the supply closet to find some extra medical gauze for the boy’s leg-cast, the girl from his building storms into the waiting area demanding to know where her brother is._

_Anders, suave and charming as he had been years ago, whisks her to her brother’s side and she is just so relieved that her brother is alright. Over the course of the next few hours he plies her with coffee from the nurse’s station and just before she leaves he asks for her number and…_

That particular fantasy ended when an actual patient walked up to the nurse’s station with a severe limp and forcibly drew Anders back into reality.

This pattern continued for several weeks. Whenever Anders was bored and left without something concrete to contemplate, his thoughts wandered towards more and more elaborate fantasies about how he will one day encounter the woman from his building and the things they might do as a couple. How they might act around one another. How he might sit so that she would turn towards him subconsciously, and feel inexplicably safer with him near. Or, how he would buy her flowers though he can’t really afford them, and she would chide him but kiss him happily all the same. He starts feeling jealous of the people he sees in the streets who all appear to have loving, meaningful relationships just to spite him.

Anders was beginning to think that he was actually going crazy. It’s, quite simply, unhealthy to obsess this way over one girl whom he’s never even spoken to properly. But Anders lived alone save for his cat, and only had a few hours off a week between studying for his nursing exams, volunteering at the Mage Underground clinic, and the actual work placement in the A&E so he’s lonely. He knew this, but he already doesn’t get enough sleep, and right now his spare time is divided up into actually sleeping, trying to feed himself, and doing the multitude of other things that needed to be done, like paying bills and doing laundry. Socialization, if it didn’t happen at work, didn’t happen at all; and it was apparently driving him absolutely mental.

Anders resigned himself to a future of pitiful crushes to go along with his hectic existence. Getting back up on his feet after Karl and the Wardens had been _hard_. It had taken years, a couple location changes and three therapists to get him to a place where he felt like he didn’t need to keep running, and that he was doing something meaningful with his life. He loves his work, he really does, for all that it exhausts him… but a man cannot live to work, alone…

The crush persists until, Anders woke early one winter morning from a night of fitful sleep, and started to prepare for his day. Rolling out of bed and shuffling into the kitchen, Anders brewed a pot of coffee and tried to push the memory of his nightmares aside.  Ser Pounce sat on the counter near the cabinet that held his food and meowed at him expectantly. When the coffee was ready and the cat had been fed, Anders dropped into a chair by the kitchen window that looked out over the park across the street from his block of flats, and watched the city rouse itself for the day. Traffic was already starting to build up on the main motorway into the city, and about a dozen people passed his building on their morning jog through the paved paths in the park.

Around the time Anders poured his second cup of coffee and is contemplating a piece of toast for breakfast, he spotted a figure that made his heart do excited flip flops in his chest. His mystery crush was walking through the park… holding the leash of the _biggest dog that Anders had ever seen._

And just like that his crush is gone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Anders looked himself over in the full-length mirror on the back of his bedroom door and sighed.

“This is as good as it’s going to get, Ser Pounce.” Anders said to the orange tabby cat who sat majestically on top of his duvet.

A younger Anders would have been appalled by the reflection that he cast in the mirror now. The last few months of his placement in the A&E had taken their toll on his looks. His hair was well over-due for a trim and Anders could only remedy the tousled-look slightly, by pulling the front half back into a stubby pony tail. Stubble darkened his cheeks, and he really _had_ meant to shave that morning, but it had slipped his mind and he simply did not have time for it now, late as he already was.

His time in the Wardens and the years constantly moving around before and after had taken their toll on his body as well. His clothes hung off his frame loosely, and not in the purposefully-baggy way that was fashionable right now. They simply no longer fit properly on his lean frame, having lost nearly two stone since the last time he went shopping for clothes. His face had a gauntness to it that had never been there before with sunken eyes and cheeks that, in certain lights, made him look much older than his 27 years. Not to mention the scars…

Nathaniel Howe would probably say that he looked like a lyrium addict, but Nate was back with the Wardens and Anders hadn’t suited the cut of those uniforms any better than he did these clothes. So he counted it a blessing that he was at least comfortable and out of the Deep Roads, if not quite as fit as he had been before all that.

He could always just not go… he thought, but Bela would kill him, and if he was honest with himself he damn well needed the break and, more importantly, the human interaction with people who weren’t patients.

Running a hand through his hair and with a final sigh of resignation, Anders flicked the lights off and exited his flat.

 

* * *

 

It was a short walk to Isabela’s, and the night was clear and not too chilly so Anders found that he enjoyed the exercise. It was a Friday night in a student-heavy neighborhood of the city so there was an almost tangible electric charge in the air that only took hold just after sunset as young people headed towards their nights out, and then once again early in the morning just after the pubs and dance clubs closed for the night.

As he watched the bright young things walk by in their high heels and beautiful clothes, Anders wondered, morbidly, just how many of them might end up in the A&E tonight and why; sprained ankles, broken noses, concussions, and dehydration were all common maladies at the A&E on the weekends.

By the time Isabela buzzed him into her building and opened the door to her flat Anders had figured out that this party wasn’t exactly as it had been sold to him. “Small gathering of friends” had been Bela’s exact words. And while it was conceivable that Bela was friends with everyone in attendance, Anders could hardly call the gathering small. The flat Bela shared with her flatmate, Merrill, wasn’t large and nearly every room including the hallway held at least ten people.

“Anders!” Bela greeted him enthusiastically, when he finally found her in the living room, playing a card game with a group of people similar to the bright-young-things Anders had passed on the street. “Darling, it’s been so long! Come in; have a drink!”

A few moments later, Anders found himself wedged into the kitchen between the countertop and the refrigerator with a plastic cup in his hand full of something Bela described as “punch,” trying to insert himself into one of the many conversations going on around him. Merrill, Isabela’s flatmate, sweetly tried to entertain him for a while before getting dragged away by a group of her own friends, and Anders was contemplating simply leaving when Bela reappeared shouting his name.

“Oi, Anders!” she called, and she looked to be dragging someone behind her. “I’ve got someone here you should meet!”

And it was _her_.

Anders stared at the woman he’d secretly had an absurd crush on wide-eyed for a few moments before realizing that Bela was making an introduction, and he should probably pay attention to that.

“Anders, this is Hawke. Hawke, Anders. Let’s see…: you’re both from Ferelden. You both like helping people. You’re both _painfully_ single annnnd… Oh! And you both have a _weird_ thing for Tevinter cuisine. - Go! I’ll be back to check up on you two crazy kids later!”

And just like that Bela was gone, and they’re left staring at each other awkwardly.

“Well, that’s Bela for you.” Anders said with a laugh hoping to break the tension, and graciously, the woman; Hawke apparently, laughed too.

“Yep, that’s Bela.” She said, glancing down at the coat and handbag still draped over her arm.

Somehow Anders pulls out the dregs of his manners and dusts them off into something serviceable.

“Can I get you a drink?” Anders asked, and simultaneously offered to move her coat and handbag into a safe place in the corner he had formerly occupied.

“ _Please._ ” Hawke replied with an eagerness to her tone that suggested her own nerves, and just like that Anders finds his charm. He’s not sure from whence they come but his witty remarks entice a few more chuckles out of Hawke, and apparently he’s interesting enough that she doesn’t walk away immediately after he hands her a drink; in fact, she stays for a second... and then a third.

They’re the only ones sitting in the kitchen by this time, everyone else playing a few rounds of Wicked Grace or Diamondback in the sitting room, so they don’t have to shout to hear each other anymore and they have the pick of Isabela’s considerable liquor selection and nibbles.

When they’re on their fourth drink Hawke finally breaches a subject which he had been hoping to avoid.

“You look really familiar,” Hawke said, after a conversation comparing the merits of several of Kirkwall’s Tevinter restaurants and takeaways. “Have we met?”

And now Anders had a choice: be the creepy guy who knew exactly why he seems familiar to her, or just say no.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure we live in the same building…” he said before his brain had the chance to catch up.

“Oh… really?” Hawke replied. “You live in Lawson’s Court in Lowtown?”

Anders nods. “Fourth floor, flat 407.”

“And you _recognize_ me?” Hawke asked, her face incredulous.

“Well, you do stand out – ‘cause of your dog!” He saves.

Hawke had a look on her face that said she didn’t quite believe him, but she doesn’t run away, so he figures that he can’t have messed up too badly.

“Yes, Caball _does_ tend to attract attention.” She agrees with a laugh. “So… how do you know Bela?”

Anders is relieved for the change in topic. “We used to work together at a bar in Denerim.” He said, taking a sip of his drink.

Hawke’s face lit up. “I met her just after that! Were you that guy who used to juggle the mixers whenever somebody tipped you?”

Anders blushed a little and took a sip of his drink. “I may have done a few tricks to impress one or two people...”

Hawke laughed. “She said you made a killing off of that trick!”

Anders shrugged and smiled.

“Bela really hasn’t changed much since then has she?”

Anders laughed. “No, she hasn’t.”

Hawke was still grinning at him as they fell into a natural lull in the conversation, and he found that he would be willing to juggle geese on the spot, or anything else she might request if it meant she’d keep smiling at him like that.

“Bela, said you were from Ferelden?” He said, when the pause started to grow awkward.

“I am. My family is originally from Lothering.” She replied.

“How’d you end up in Kirkwall?”

“We moved here, after my father died; and also, you know… because of the Blight.”

“I’m so sorry.” Anders said, kicking himself for the blunder into an obviously painful topic.

Hawke shrugged. “Lothering was boring anyway. I’ve got a pretty good life here in Kirkwall… To be honest, I hardly miss it. What about you?”

Anders hesitated for a moment before answering, wondering how much he should actually divulge to a stranger. “I’m originally from Ridden, but I’ve spent a lot of time in the towns around Lake Calenhad, and Amaranthine, and Denerim… I’ve lived all over Ferelden really...”

“So what brought _you_ to Kirkwall?”

“Friends… and work. I’m a nurse.”

“Really? At the Kirkwall Royal Infirmary by any chance?”

“Yes. Why?”

Hawke grinned at him again. “My sister, Beth, is just about to start her undergrad at the University and is going to be doing her practicals there.”

Anders returned it. “I’ll keep an eye out for her then. Make sure she doesn’t get lost her first week.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Hawke laughed.

Just then, Isabela stumbled into the kitchen and threw her arms around their shoulders.

“Good! You two have gotten cozy! Let’s go do something _fun_. Who fancies a club? I want to go _dancing_.”

Anders glanced over at Hawke, and saw her do the same to him.

“I’ve got an early morning, Bela.” Hawke said, with a gentle smile. “Next time, though.”

Bela pouted, prettily. “Well, you’re no fun. Anders?”

Anders’ grimaced as he tried to come up with an acceptable excuse, but before he could say anything Hawke jumped to his rescue.

“Actually, Anders promised he’d walk me home.”

“Oh, I _see_.” Isabela said, with a wink at Hawke. “Well, you two darlings are welcome to stay as long as you like. Just make sure the door’s locked when you leave.”

But Hawke and Anders slipped out the door before Isabela and the rest of her entourage have even organized themselves enough to phone a taxi.

“Hope I didn’t read your face completely wrong back there.” Hawke said, as they made their way slowly back towards their block of flats in Lawson’s Court. “And I’m keeping you from a night of drunken debauchery.”

Anders huffed out a breath of amusement. “Hardly, in fact, I rather suspect I owe you for that.”

“Not at all. But if you have something in mind…” Hawke trailed off suggestively, and Anders’ heart pounded in his chest while he tried to figure out if he was just hearing flirting because he wanted to.

The truth was, now that he’d met her, his crush had returned full force; monster-dog be damned. Hawke was lovely; both literally and figuratively. From their conversation Anders had found out that she was getting her MSc in Political Science so that she could achieve her dream of getting a seat on the City Council and really making a difference. She cared about the struggles of the elves in the Alienage, and even that of mages. They hadn’t spoken long about these topics, Anders knew better than to debate them in length at a first meeting, but the fact that she was sympathetic to the cause closest to his heart was enough to make him wonder for a brief moment if he hadn’t already fallen in love with her.

 

* * *

 

Their walk home was uneventful, and ended with the two of them standing in front of Hawke’s front door.

“You didn’t have to walk me all the way to my flat, you know. We do live in the same building, it’s perfectly safe.” Hawke said, with an amused curl to her lips that made him think she didn’t really mind that much.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Anders drawled with what he hoped was an easy grin, but he suspected it fell short by a ways. “I think I’ve seen ghasts prowling the halls late at night. I couldn’t leave a lady undefended.”

“Ghasts? _Really?_ ” One perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched at him. “I thought they only lived in caves?”

“Caves, crevasses, canyons… council estates…. All the same really.” He replied with a shrug.

Hawke chuckled and turned the key in the door. “Well, thank you for protecting me from the _fearsome_ little demons, Anders. I don’t know _what_ I would have done without you. I’ll see you around…” She said before disappearing inside.

“And you.” He said with a little wave before turning to make his way up to the fourth floor.

He absolutely did _not_ waltz the whole way there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read, subscribed, commented, or given me kudos thus far. I really do appreciate it!

About a week after Isabella’s party, Anders ran into Hawke for the second time whilst doing laundry.

Since moving into his flat in Lawson’s Court, Anders had found that the best time to claim a washing machine from the laundry room in the basement was between the hours of midnight and dawn. Given his erratic work schedule which usually only let him off around eleven, this worked out in his favor. Usually, given the lateness of the hour, Anders got the washing machines and dryers all to himself, so Anders was surprised when he saw that the light in the wash room was on when he made his way down to the basement late one Thursday night.

The sight that greeted him when he opened the door made him stop in his tracks. Hawke, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer-shorts and a paint-stained cotton vest, was dancing enthusiastically to what Anders could only assume was music playing through her headphones. Since she faced the opposite wall, she hadn’t noticed that she had an audience, and Anders bit his lip to stifle a giggle.

Placing his laundry basket at his feet and leaning against the wall, Anders adopted an air of casualness, in preparation for the moment when Hawke finally noticed him in the doorway.

Hawke began to sing with the chorus and Anders recognized the lyrics (if not the tune) from a popular rock song that was played constantly on the radio. The song reached its crescendo and Hawke whipped around as she (sort-of) hit the song’s high note, singing into a hairbrush.

(When Hawke related the story to Isabela a few days later, she left out how, at the sight of Anders, she let out a loud shriek of surprise. Isabela later found out anyway, when she interrogated Anders about the very incident.)

At Hawke’s shriek of surprise, Anders jumped a foot and the amused smirk dropped from his face like a stone.

“ _Maker’s breath_ , I didn’t mean to frighten you!” He apologized.

Hawke stared at him with one hand pressed over the self-conscious grin that covered her face, and she started to laugh.

“It’s alright!” She said between giggles. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be down here!”

“Same here, I usually have the whole room to myself when I come down this late.”

“All the same, I glad it was _you_ and not a _total_ stranger…”

Anders held his hands up defensively. “I’m not one to judge. We all like to get our groove on from time-to-time.” Anders kicked himself mentally. ‘get our groove on?’ _Really_? He didn’t think that he had ever been more awkward with a woman than he was around Hawke.

Hawke raised an eyebrow at him but, saint that she clearly was, she didn’t comment, or even seem to mind his awkwardness. She just went back to pulling her clothes from the dryer and folding them before placing them in her laundry basket.

They went about their separate chores in silence for a few moments while they both recovered from the embarrassment of the last few minutes. Anders stole peeks at her from the corner of his eye as he sorted through his dirty laundry and shoved articles into the washing machine. He froze for a moment when he saw Hawke take notice of a flyer that had appeared in the laundry room about two week ago. Anders should know… he had been the one to put it there.

Anders’ heart pounded nervously while he waited for Hawke to read it, and desperately tried to think of something to say. Luckily, (or not, it remained to be seen) Hawke beat him to it.

“What do you think about all of this?” She asked, hopping up onto the flimsy card table that stood in the center of the room, folding her legs under her, and still holding the pamphlet in her hand.

“About what?” Anders asked, as if he didn’t already know.

“Mage rights… someone left this flyer here for a group meeting or something.”

Anders hesitated for a moment before answering her. He _liked_ Hawke, but inevitably her opinion on this matter would make or break his opinion of her; the trouble was, his own opinions tended to be more liberal than most and he had driven off several others who might have become friends otherwise amidst such discussions. Being a mage himself, Anders had experienced the very worst of what the Magic Restriction laws and the Circles had to offer.

Something in her face pushed him towards honesty. “I think the way our society treats mages is appalling…. We punish innocent people for crimes that they _might_ one day commit. We steal their lives away for minor infringements. It’s barbaric!”

“You don’t think magic is dangerous?” Hawke said, cocking her head to one side, and Anders felt his heart fall with disappointment. He’d had this exact same argument before countless times, and he had hoped that Hawke might be different, but it seemed that she was not.

“It can be if the mage is not properly trained, yes. But the answer to that is proper education, not imprisonment or constant surveillance. And magic is not the only thing that defines a mage… they are still _people_. They still deserve to live their lives. They still deserve to have their fundamental rights protected by the law, the same as anyone else. I’m not saying that you don’t punish a mage for committing a crime; but the mere fact that someone is _born_ a mage should not be treated as one.”

Hawke was staring at him with a strange little smile on her face; a sly upward curl to one side of her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Anders said, deflating. “I didn’t mean to lecture you.”

“I’ll be honest; I agree with you… One-hundred percent.” She said.

“I – you – _really_?”

“Yeah, my – well, my sister is a mage… and so was my father. I grew up around magic. A part of me has always wished that I had it too. I used to be so jealous; up until my family moved to Kirkwall, and then I saw the Gallows. It was the first time I’d ever seen a Circle; Lothering had a very ‘don’t ask – don’t tell’ attitude towards magic, so my family was never bothered by the Templars there. Now, I would do _anything_ to keep my sister away from that place if I could… but the Templars found out about her, of course, so now she has to check in every week and have her magic suppressed so that she can live outside the Circle…”

“I’m so sorry.” Anders said, and he meant it.

“Yeah, well… not your fault. But, that’s why I want to work in politics. I want to see change in my lifetime across all of Thedas, not just in Kirkwall. So that people like my sister can live free and proud of the gifts the Maker gave her.”

“That’s terribly noble of you.”

“Sorry, to dump all this on you, but there really aren’t that many people who feel the same way about mages, so…”

Anders could see that Hawke had become emotional and uncomfortable, and his brain scrambled for a way to cheer her up… Something to repay her for her honesty and for the vulnerability that she had just shared with him.

He moved over to the door and flicked off the light switches, plunging them both into darkness.

“Anders?” came Hawke’s confused voice through the dark, and Anders carefully stepped back towards the table she sat on.

“It’s alright. Trust me for a moment. I just want to show you something.” He said.

He stopped at the centre of the room and took a few steadying breaths; clearing his mind of the heavy emotions that always surged when he talked politics, and the thrill that he had felt when he realized that Hawke was just as passionate about mage rights as he. The only sounds were those of the laundry machines’ steady humming and of their breathing in the dark.

Anders drew upon the well of power within himself; inhaling, he focused the energy from his lungs into his hands. Cupping his palms and bringing them up to cover his mouth he exhaled, willing a ball of light to flare between his fingers. He heard Hawke’s gasp of surprise as she realized what it meant. With a sweeping gesture of his arms Anders threw his hands out and dispersed hundreds of tiny pinpricks of light throughout the room. They hovered in the space, floating on the air currents gently and illuminating the room in starlight.

“Maker, that’s _beautiful_!” Hawke breathed, her face aglow in the mage-lights, and with a smile full of wonder on her face.

Anders smiled back at her when she looked at him.

“ _You’re_ a mage?” she asked, and he nodded still smiling.

“You’re an apostate.” But it wasn’t a question, and his smile faded a little.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” He asked, suddenly quite worried that he’d misjudged her.

Hawke shook her head. “No, your secret is safe with me. But… _how_?”

Anders shrugged. “Not _legally_ if you must know…”

“You’re lucky, then.” Hawke said, her voice containing an emotion he couldn’t quite place.

Anders nodded, this he knew.

A buzzer from one of the washing machines loudly startled them out of their conversation, and Anders’ mage-lights extinguished instantly. He swore and crossed back over to the door to switch the fluorescent lights back on.

When he turned back to Hawke she had hopped off the table to gather up her laundry basket and balanced it on her hip.

“It’s been lovely talking with you.” She said. “But I _do_ have class tomorrow, so I have to get _some_ sleep.”

“Goodnight then.” Anders said, with a small nervous smile.

Before Hawke left completely, she turned back with that funny little smile on her face and said. “ _Thank you_ , for sharing your secret with me. I know that it’s not insignificant.”

“Not many non-mages share your views… I wanted to show you how much it means to me.” he said, truthfully.

Hawke smiled at him fully. “I’ll see you around then, Anders.”

Anders fell a little bit in love with her that night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay; having some trouble finishing the next chapter, but I'll get it out soon as I can!

It was a quiet afternoon in the A&E at the Kirkwall Royal Infirmary. Anders watched the news on the small black-and-white tv that sat in the nurses’ station and doodled on a pad of paper as he waited for the more active hours of the day to arrive. He should be happy, he supposed. A quiet A&E meant that people weren’t injuring themselves or coming down with severe illnesses. Anders just wished that he wasn’t so bored during these hours.

As if the Maker was hearing his thoughts and wished to punish his selfishness; a call came in from two ambulances currently en route to the hospital with two young men in the back, suffering from a broken leg, whiplash, several bruised ribs, and a possible concussion collectively. Apparently their car had been struck by a lorry after veering into the wrong lane on the motorway. The lorry driver was apparently unhurt.  

Anders got to work on prepping two beds in the examination ward and locating the supplies that would undoubtedly be needed, but not necessarily be on hand, such as the rolls of medical gauze and plaster that would eventually make it into one of the men’s leg-casts. By the time he returned the two men had been transferred into the beds and one was being evaluated and registered by another nurse.

Anders grabbed the clipboard at the end of the other patient’s bed and started the evaluation process for the boy himself. Male… Nineteen… Surname: Hawke, first name: Carver.

“So you’re Carver Hawke, then?” Anders asked, and he paused at the surname… must be a coincidence.

The boy pinned him with sardonic blue eyes that made Anders pause for a second time; a cousin perhaps?

“That’s what it says on the chart, doesn’t it?” The boy’s tone was irritated.

“Right then; broken leg, and a couple of bruised ribs… We’ll get you patched up just soon as we can, Mr. Hawke. Just need to ask you a couple questions first – ”

“ _Andraste’s flaming tits!_ Can’t you wankers get me some pain killers before you interrogate me or _something_? I’ve got a broken leg, and I can’t fucking _breathe_ ; I’m in pain!”

Anders sighed and went to find some OxyContin to give to the boy, hoping it would make him less of a nob. By the time he returned with the pills he could hear the sound of shouting from the direction of the nurses’ station and he decided that Carver could wait a minute or two longer for his pain killers while Anders sorted out whatever problem had arisen in the waiting room.

“I don’t care if he’s still being processed, _I want to see my brother_!”  A feminine voice demanded.

Despite the situation a small smile formed on Anders’ face when he realized who it was. He could only see her from behind, but her pixie cut and her commanding presence meant it could really only be one woman. And if he was honest with himself, he’d been hoping she might show up ever since he learned his patient’s full name.

“Hawke!” Anders called out and her head snapped around at the sound of her name with a dark scowl on her face, which immediately brightened at the sight of him.

“Anders!” she replied and crossed the distance between them to draw him into a brief hug. “What are you doing here?” she asked, and Anders had to smirk a little.

“ _I_ work here. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Oh, Maker, of course! You mentioned that, didn’t you? Sorry, I’m not completely with it right now. My brother’s been in a traffic accident and I’m just trying to find him…”

“Black hair, blue eyes, absolute piss-pour attitude, and answers to the name ‘Carver?’”

Hawke’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. “Yes!”

“Follow me.” Anders said and waved to the nurse at the desk indicating that he would handle both rampaging Hawkes from here.

Anders was appalled when he found out that Carver’s attitude didn’t improve overly much with the drugs in his system or the presence of his sister, and he gratefully handed the case over to the physician on-call once she finally made it round to relieve him.

As he moved on to other duties in another wing of the hospital he noticed a large crowd of news trucks were parked outside and he filed it away in his head as odd, but not really worthy of investigation.

 

* * *

 

He caught up with Hawke a few hours later when he took his break and went to go get a coffee and a snack from the cafeteria in the basement. Hawke was sitting by herself at a round table in a corner with her head resting in her hands, looking stressed and forlorn.

Anders dropped into the seat next to hers and held out the bag with the chocolate chip cookie he had grabbed for his snack.

“You look like you need this more than I do.” Anders said, and Hawke’s head shot up at the sound of his voice.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.” He said with a grimace.

Hawke shook her head. “No, it’s alright. I could use the company.” She took the cookie and set it down on the table in front of her, taking it more by instinct than by actual acceptance of the treat.

“How’s Carver doing?” Anders asked, taking a ship of his coffee.

“Oh, he’s fine really. Just being a little shit, as usual.” She grumbled.

“He seems like a truly charming young man…”

Hawke snorted and rolled her eyes.

“He’s always been… difficult. Firstly, because he was jealous that Bethany got all of Father’s attention, and now, because he doesn’t know how else to act. I swear to Andraste, some days I just want to strangle him.”

Anders just nodded, not really sure what to say, or what might help.

“Do you have any siblings?” she asked finally.

Anders shook his head. “No.”

“You’re lucky.”

“You know, people always say that, but I don’t think anyone would actually give up their siblings given the chance.”

Hawke rolled her eyes. “No, I suppose not… but they do drive us bloody crazy.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

They both smiled at that.

“I shouldn’t take your cookie.” She said, finally noticing the plastic bag in front of her. “You eat it.”

Anders unwrapped it and held it out to her again. “Share?” he asked, and she relented with a soft smile, taking hold of one side and then breaking it down the middle.

“Thank you.” She said, taking a bite. “It’s very good.”

“It’s sugar and chocolate and really the only decent thing they serve here.” He replied and they fell into a comfortable silence as they eat the cookie and sip their coffees.

Anders bit his lip remembering one of the fantasies he had entertained one afternoon several weeks before; the one that had mirrored this very event. He contemplated following through with the scenario that had presented itself then… Asking Hawke on a date really shouldn’t have been so nerve-wracking. Younger Anders would have been confident and suave; it would have been easy for him then. It should have been easy for him now, but after everything that happened with Karl and the Wardens…

The words slip out before he can stop them. “So, I was wondering – “

“Hey, Marian! Marian Hawke, over here!” A voice came out of nowhere and both Hawke and Anders turned towards the source of the sound. A bright flash blinded him for a few moments and he’s still terribly confused when he turned to her and saw the look of absolute mortification on her face.

“ _What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you wanker_?” Hawke yelled, apoplectic. “My brother’s in the A &E and you’re trying to get a fucking _picture_?! Get out of here before I call the police!”

The man with the camera slunk away with a sly grin on his face and Hawke turned back to him with her face still flushed with anger. Anders stared at her dumbly for a moment until the other shoe dropped, then Hawke’s eyes narrowed with a cringe, as his widened with recognition.

“You… You’re _Marian_ Hawke?!” He said, his mouth hanging agape.

“Yeahhh.” She said, slowly. “I am.”

Marian Hawke was the heir to a massive fortune on her mother’s side, and her father had been one of the most influential mages in Ferelden’s history; successfully organizing and campaigning for mages’ rights outside the Circles. All Ferelden mages owed their freedom to Malcolm Hawke. Unfortunately, Malcolm had paid for that freedom with his life several years ago; killed via assassination. There was a movement within the mage community to have him canonized as a disciple of Andraste, but it hadn’t caught on within the Chantry just yet. What’s more he was Anders’ personal hero… and this was his daughter sitting next to him.

And just like that, any chance he thought he could have had with this woman evaporated like smoke. Pictures of her family graced the tabloids weekly, and speculation about their lives was on every gossip’s lips. He was an absolute moron for not making the connection before now. The camera crews outside the hospital that afternoon suddenly made sense and Anders had the distinct feeling of having been living under a rock for a thousand years, for not recognizing her the moment he saw her.

“I… _oh_ …” And Anders couldn’t think of what to say. “…Why do you live in our shitty building when you could afford any flat in the city?” Is what he finally comes up with.

She let out a nervous laugh. “That’s… really not what I expected you to say…”

Anders shrugged and shook his head. “What do you want me to say?”

“Good point. Well… I live in our building because if I’m going to represent the people of Kirkwall on the City Council, then I should really know how people in the city live; what it’s like on the streets, so to speak. I really _do_ want to make a difference.”

Anders was silent again, and Hawke eyed him suspiciously. “You _really_ didn’t know who I was?”

“As… unbelievable as it sounds, yes… I’m not really one for celebrity gossip, and I’ve been fairly secluded for the last few years so it’s not really something I… would have known.” he finished lamely.

Hawke nodded, and he’s not really sure whether or not she believed him. “You’ll probably be in the rag mags tomorrow… just a head’s up.” She said. “My love-life is the paparazzi’s _favorite_ subject. Seriously, you should hear he list of guys I’ve supposedly dated…”

Anders blinked, unable to come up with a decent response to this.

“Anyway, thanks for the cookie… and for the chat. Sorry, to drag you into all this, but I should really get going.”

“Alright, goodnight.”

“See you around, Anders.” She said in her usual manner, but he’s heard it enough by now to know that this is her running away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter this time, on account of the fact that I had some major writer's block. Which also explains the tardiness of its posting. Sorry about that. 
> 
> Just one chapter left to go!

Anders tried to orchestrate their next meeting.

Several weeks passed from Carver’s accident and the fiasco with the paparazzi. Hawke had been right. The following morning a photo of the two of them from the hospital dining hall had indeed graced the front page of the gossip magazine the paparazzi had apparently been working for.

“ **Amell Heiress’ Secret Affair with Mystery-Man: Does the Darling of Hightown Know His Whole Story?** ”

Anders had snorted in amusement at the irony of that headline. Marian Hawke, most definitely did not know his whole story; but according to this issue of the “Daily Post” Anders was actually someone named Ophren Bannalore, and he was an independently wealthy nug merchant with shady connections to the Black Emporium… If he had ever questioned the legitimacy of the news printed in those magazines, suddenly being the subject of one certainly put those thoughts to rest.

An expensive bottle of wine had mysteriously shown up on his doorstep a few days later, but aside from that Anders had seen neither hide nor hair of Marian Hawke.

So he started walking in the park in the early morning hoping to run into her. He started spending more time in the trendy coffee-shops around the University campus. He started doing his laundry more frequently. He even went so far as to ask Isabela to get a message to her; but then he can’t think of what to say…

Naturally, it was when he stopped trying that he finally succeeded.

 

* * *

 

His nursing degree doesn’t often bring him into the University campus, but finals are coming up and Anders suddenly found himself needing to study. He also found that he could concentrate best, seated in the Student Union where there were plenty of other students in the same boat, as well as cheap junk food on demand and all the coffee he could swill.

He sighed as he stared at the pages of notes spread haphazardly before him on the table meant for six, and scrubbed his hands over his eyes in frustration. His brain felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool and he decided that that was as good as sign as any that he needed to take a break.

Three minutes later he had a pot-noodle cup steeping away, a banana, and a can of fizzy juice wedged carefully between his notes so as not to stain them.

 It was then that someone stepped too close behind him, and the hairs on the back of Anders’ neck stood on end; his Warden senses tingling in phantom recognition.

He whipped around in his seat startling the woman behind him almost as much as she had startled him.

“Maker’s breath, Anders!” the woman said, and it took him a moment or two before the woman registered in his brain as Marian Hawke.

“Hawke!” he gasped.

And she gave him an awkward little wave. “Yep, hello, that’s me… Hi, again.” she said.

“Hi…” Anders replied and a silence stretched on between them.

Hawke shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably and glanced around, looking for something to say. Finally her gaze fell on his lunch, and her lips quirked up in a smirk.

“Pot-noodle…  Good choice.” Now it was Anders’ turn to shift uncomfortably.

“I… yeah…” Anders didn’t know what to say to defend himself, they were cheap and fast to make. He ate them for more meals than he cared to admit to.

“No, I like them too!” She said, eager to cover her tracks. “I still eat them from time-to-time. They remind me of primary school. They were ten coppers a dozen at the shops, so my mum used to buy them by the cartload. They were one of the few foods that Beth, Carver, and I all agreed on liking…”

There was silence again, and Anders could see that Hawke was considering leaving when he finally grasped at a topic of conversation.

“Thank you for the wine!” he sputtered.

“Oh! You liked it?” Hawke said, a smile blooming on her face. “I’m relieved! I wanted to get you something for putting up with Carver and that whole paparazzi thing. But after I left it I realized, I don’t even know if you _drink_ wine… I asked a friend for a recommendation on what to get someone for a thank-you present; and he said ‘wine,’ and that that one was a good vintage or something, but I don’t really know. I’m absolute rubbish at stuff like this – Maker, I’m starting to sound like _Merrill_ …”

Anders smiled at her nervous rambling. “No, it was lovely. But really, you didn’t have to. It’s literally my job to take care of people.”

Hawke stared at him awkwardly for a few more seconds. Anders’ heart did a funny little ba-thump in his chest as he watched her biting her lip and obviously mulling something over.

“Listen,” she finally said, putting him out of his misery. “My friends and I are getting a pint at the Hanged Man later on, why don’t you come along?”

Anders glanced at his notes uncertainly. “I’m not sure…”

Hawke settled into a confidant pose, with one hand resting on her cocked hip and her head tilted a little to the side.

“You in the infirmary tonight?”

Anders shook his head, ‘no.’

“So otherwise you’d just be sitting at home studying?”

Anders grimaced. “Probably.”

“Oh, _come on_ then. When’s your exam anyway?”

“Next Tuesday…” He admitted.

“Maker, that’s ages away!” She said with a grin. “And I guarantee relaxing a bit tonight will help you focus tomorrow.”  

“Alright, fine… When?”

“Brilliant! We’re all meeting at the pub at 8:30, and I promise it’s just a small group of friends.”

“Bela ‘small’, or normal person ‘small?’”

This quip was greeted with a laugh. “Normal person ‘small,’ I promise. There’d be just eight of us, including you.”

Anders nodded. “Alright then, I’ll see you there.”

Hawke leaned over the table and stole his pen to scribble a line of numbers across one of the pages of his notes.

“There’s my number in case you get lost. You better show up, or I’ll be very cross!” She said, starting to to take her leave.

Anders nodded and rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I promise I’ll be there.”

This apparently satisfied Hawke enough that she left the building on whatever mission she endeavored to that day. Anders’ eyes followed her the whole way out the door.

‘Damn,’ he thought. ‘Now I need to find something to wear.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will most certainly be writing the episode where Anders meets the gang for the first time. I just didn't really want to do it for this particular fic, since I think I want to be able to jump around from one point of view to another. So keep an eye out for that one after I finish with this story.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear lord this took a long time to finish... Hopefully the fact that this one chapter is nearly as long as all the others combined will make up for the fact that it was on hiatus for so long... :/
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: Somewhat graphic descriptions of a terrorist attack. So please do not continue reading if you think this will upset you.

There was this really sweet guy who lived in Hawke’s building, and she really, _really_ liked him. But it was driving her absolutely mental waiting for him to ask her out.

She thought he’d be smart enough to take the hint when she left a bottle of wine on his doorstep to say ‘thank you’ for taking care of her idiot baby-brother when he’d landed himself in hospital… but that’s what she got for listening to Aveline and Fenris’ advice. Aveline had spent three years dancing around Donnic (plus the infamous ‘copper marigolds’ incident) before Hawke and Isabela had gotten so fed up with it that they’d literally locked the two of them in the police-chief’s office. Fenris was not nearly as romantically dense as Aveline… but not by much. Fenris had taken surliness, and turned it into a brooding art form. Of all of her friends to ask Hawke had been mad to look to those two for relationship advice. But then again, Varric and Isabela would have teased her relentlessly, Merrill couldn’t keep a secret for shit, so she was left with; Sebastian (nope), her siblings (NO), Aveline, and Fenris… So maybe Aveline and Fenris really were the best options.

‘I need to get new friends.’ Hawke thought with a huff; only less than half serious.

So the wine hadn’t actually been the most obvious statement of interest, but she had thought that inviting him out with her friends would have led to something _for sure_. She’d given him her phone number, she’d made eyes at him all night long, she’d even worn _that_ jumper; the black one Bela had picked out for her which made her dramatic colouring look even more striking, and showed off her cleavage marvelously. At the end of the night Anders _had_ walked her home (admittedly not a hardship, considering they lived in the same building), but not a lunch date was enquired after, nor a movie scheduled, nor even a coffee date suggested, and Hawke was beginning to get discouraged.

Frustrated and out of ideas, Hawke finally admitted to herself that she needed to ask the ‘Master’ for advice.

“D’you think he might be gay?” Merrill suggested over lunch the following weekend when Hawke had finished explaining her predicament. Merrill was not ‘the Master’ in this particular circumstance, but she did come attached at the hip.

“Not a chance, Kitten.” Isabela purred, then turned to Hawke absolutely preening over finally being asked to give out relationship advice. “I saw the way he was staring at you all night, Hawke. He wouldn’t have looked quite so much like a starving man if he was riding the other bus… Although as I recall, when we worked together at the pub, I think he did go home with a bloke once or twice…”

“So he is gay then!” Merrill chirruped, proudly.

Isabela shook her head in exasperation. “I doubt it, I wouldn’t have tried to set you two up if I thought he was only interested in men. I’m pretty sure he swings both ways; and I’m _definitely_ sure that he likes you, if no one else.” 

“Ooooh,” Merrill said, finally catching on to what Isabela was implying. “Would that bother you, Hawke? If Anders liked both men and women?”

Hawke frowned. “I don’t think so, but right now I’m more worried about whether or not he likes me at _all_.”

Isabela sighed again at her persistently thick-skulled friend. “Sweet thing, all you have to do is _ask_ him.”

“What? Just come out and ask:” Hawke continued with a false Marcher accent. “‘Say Anders, do you like to frolic with girls or boys? More specifically; I’ve got a vacancy in my pants, wanna fill it?’”

Isabela chuckled good-naturedly and Merrill giggled until fizzy juice went up her nose.

“Well, that certainly would be the direct approach.” said Isabela.

Hawke sighed. “No, but you’re right. I should just ask him out and see what happens.”

“That’s my girl; and remember, if he turns you down I’ll beat him up for being even more of an idiot than I thought he was.”

 

* * *

 

Hawke finally got the chance to ask Anders out a week later. A mage-rights rally was being held on the city commons, and Hawke had it on good knowledge that Anders would be in attendance.

There was, of course, the small complication of Hawke being a paparazzi magnet, and the scandal that would no-doubt ensue once it got out that Hawke was a mage-rights supporter. Leandra, Hawke’s mother, would be furious regardless of the fact that her own political leanings were pro-mage. Her refrain that Hawke should act ‘more appropriately for her station’ being a constant source of tension between mother and daughter. But Hawke knew that eventually she would make her position publicly known… one way or another. So now was as good a time as any.

The lawns of the city commons were surprisingly packed with people. Hawke suspected that protesters had travelled from Ferelden and elsewhere in order to bolster the numbers for this particular rally. Previous ones on the university campus throughout the years had not drawn quite the horde that this one had. Suddenly Hawke’s plans of ‘just running into Anders’ at the rally seemed less well thought-out than they had when she’d walked out the door that morning.

Almost as soon as those doubts entered her mind a voice called out behind her.

“Hawke?”

Hawke whirled and she broke into a wide grin when she saw a familiar lanky, blonde man standing before her. “Anders!” She cried, delighted, and she stepped forward to sling her arms around his neck. Hawke’s heart fluttered a little at the sight of his grin. Not much more than the lift of one corner of his mouth, but it made his eyes sparkle with genuine happiness and Hawke found it more than a little enchanting.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, still smiling.

Hawke cocked an eyebrow at him. “Same as you? Rallying? Sis-boo-rah, down-with-the-establishment, stick-it-to-the-man, and all that. Why, what are _you_ doing here?” 

Anders looked a little sheepish. “Ah, yes well. The same, I suppose.”

Hawke raced to cover her tracks. “But am I pleased to see _you_!” she cried. “I don’t know a single person here and I’m all by my lonesome; would you mind if I chum along with you?”

Anders looked surprised and immensely pleased by this turn of events. “Of course.” He said, and he motioned for Hawke to follow him through the crowds, in the direction of the main stage that had been erected overnight for guest speakers.

Eventually, Anders stopped in front of a picnic blanket covered in people with just enough space for Anders and herself to squeeze on… so long as they were willing to huddle close, which Hawke most certainly was. Merrill just so happened to be one of the others lounging on the fabric square, and she grinned up at Hawke and pressed her hands together in silent applause when she caught sight of her following Anders towards them. The other people were all strangers and they turned in unison to stare up at her expectantly as Anders’ shadow loomed and Merrill’s actions alerted them to their presence.

Hawke felt yet another twinge of being in-over-her-head with a half-assed plan. What if one of the women draped across the blanket was Anders’ girlfriend? Moreover, what if one of the men was his boyfriend? Hawke had absolutely no idea. She sighed and thought to herself, ‘Well, it’s too late for that type of thinking now, I’m already here, may as well try to make some friends…’

When she tuned back in to reality Anders was already halfway through introductions.

“Merrill you already know, of course. The bloke with the fuchsia hair is Alain, next to him in Juniper, and the blonde in the corner is Meredith… Everyone, this is Hawke.”

There was a moment of silence where everyone put two-and-two together about her name and her identity, and Merrill leapt up from her seat to draw Hawke into a friendly hug.

“It’s _so_ good to see you again!” the elf gushed with the lilting vowels of her Dalish accent.

To be honest, this was the riskiest part of her plan. Hawke and Bela hadn’t been sure that Merrill would be able to keep up the ruse that she and Hawke hadn’t met up just a few days ago to plot this very encounter; Merrill not being the most savvy or mnemonically-reliable person they knew. But this time, they had been the forgetful ones, not remembering that Anders knew Hawke and Merrill were friends since he’d been on that night out with them.

Merrill drew Hawke down onto the blanket next to her and started up a conversation, over-intentionally being inclusive of Hawke. Hawke cringed a little realizing that Merrill was still playing the role of a stranger. But Merrill, though a darling, was a little odd and Hawke hoped that these people wouldn’t really think too hard on it.

The group seemed to follow Merrill’s lead and fell back into the flow of conversation. Anders settled down beside her, his knee gently brushing against Hawke’s thigh. Hawke cast a glance in his direction at the contact, and their eyes met sending sparks tripping up and down her spine. Hawke smiled at him reassuringly and Anders flushed a little but left the point of contact between them, much to Hawke’s pleasure.

It was a pleasant way to spend the afternoon, Hawke found. Bands played on the main stage to entertain the crowd before the guest speakers were scheduled to speak. The weather was clear and warm, and the mood in the crowd was mellow and content. The one damper on the afternoon being the foreboding presence of the Templars who encircled the protestors. They just stood watching, clearly in attendance only to break up rowdiness, but it was perhaps in poor taste for them to be the designated peacekeepers, rather than the City-Guard for example, given the subject matter of the rally.

The group sat and snacked and listened to the bands perform on stage for several hours, until the main guest speaker was to make her speech. The sun was just starting to dip towards the horizon by the time Grand Enchanter Fiona took the stage, and the crowd began to cheer loudly and everyone rose to their feet as the petite elven woman motioned for silence. She spoke into a microphone with a strong, clear voice, softly accented by her childhood and adolescence spent in Orlais.

“Thank you all, for coming. Your presence here today gives voice to the silent majority across Thedas that seeks justice and freedom for all! We have gathered here with one purpose; to demand equal rights before the law for our brothers and sisters born with the gift of magic!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd again.

“There are those who would condemn us for holding this view. There are those who would have us imprisoned or even killed for gathering here today. You will meet these hateful souls anywhere and everywhere, and they ask us ‘How can you seek to free the mages? Are they not dangerous? Is it not written that ‘magic shall serve man, not rule over him?’’ To those people I would ask this: ‘How is it deemed ethical to promise mages that they might live free of the Circles, so long as they submit to the trauma of a Harrowing, only to _then_ be forced into a life of constant surveillance and magic-suppressing drugs?’ As if a Harrowed mage were little more than a convicted felon. I would ask those who oppose us: ‘How is it just for society to demand that those who refuse the terms of a Harrowing must be housed in a prison, where they are constantly watched and all too often the victims of abuse? How is it humane that those who refuse to accept the oppressive rules of our Andrastian societies are forced to hide their talents and live outside of the law in constant fear of discovery and the brutal punishments that will be inflicted, including the ‘Rite of Tranquility.’’ I say to you all now: this is _not_ ethical, it is _not_ just, and it is _not_ humane. The system by which the Chantry governs mages is broken. It has been for some time…”

“But before I say any more, I would like to propose that we take a moment to honor those who are not able to be with us today; those who have refused to hide who they truly are and therefore are stripped of their freedom within the Circles. And please, let us have a moment of silence to remember those who are no longer with us, those who have been killed for the fear of their Maker-given gifts, and those who have been Tranquilled; those who are still with us in body, but are no longer here in spirit and can no longer remember the beauty of what they’ve lost.”

The Grand Enchanter bowed her head solemnly and the crowd followed suit. A silence descended over those gathered only broken by the sounds of the city around them, cars and buses and the rumble of the underground beneath their feet.

Hawke shifted her weight from one foot to the other, never entirely comfortable during such solemn moments. She always had to fight the urge to scream or wave her arms or even stifle laughter. But as she shifted nervously, she suddenly found herself pressed up against Anders’ side, their bodies connected from shoulder to hip. Hawke glanced up at him and their gazes met once more, suddenly the agitation Hawke was feeling fled to be replaced by a warm feeling that settled behind her breastbone. Anders smiled at her gently as if sensing her distress, and shifted so that they were pressed together more closely, and he reached out to link their pinky-fingers together tightly as if afraid to press his advantage too far.

Hawke’s heart was full to the brim with giddiness, Anders’ actions banishing any shadow of a doubt in her mind regarding his feelings towards her. Emboldened by the knowledge that Anders felt the same as she, Hawke slipped her whole hand into his and twined their fingers together. As she basked in this new-found happiness Hawke found herself thinking. ‘Thank the Maker that _this_ mage is free.’

Then all hell broke loose.

A flash of light from the back of the crowd, and then a deafening boom and a shockwave of heat. It took several seconds for the crowd to realize what had happened, but when they did panicked screams and shouting erupted and everyone started running all at once.

Hawke and Anders slowly stood from the crouched position that he had pushed them into, his arms instinctively turning her face and head into the crook of his neck. “Are you ok?” Anders asked, his eyes darting over her body, looking for injuries.

Hawke nodded and opened her mouth to say that she was fine, when another explosion came from the opposite direction, closer to the stage and the exit where everyone had been running to escape from the first blast.

In the ensuing chaos, Anders held tight to Hawke’s hand. Already the rest of their group was lost in the rushing crowd, and neither Hawke nor Anders wished to be separated from the other. But Hawke balked as Anders started to pull her back towards the direction of the first explosion.

“Where are you going?” Hawke shouted, trying to be heard over the volume of the din. Emergency sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer by the second, and people still screamed as they evacuated the field.

“People are hurt, I’ve got to help!” Anders cried, finally dropping her hand so that she could escape and he could move closer to those who were injured.

Hawke caught the strap of his rucksack before he could get too far and Anders turned back to her looking surprised, frustrated, and confused.

“I’m coming with you!” She explained.

Anders stared at her for a moment, his mouth gaping a little. Then he leaned forward, grabbed her face between his hands, and kissed her hard on the lips. It was not the most pleasurable kiss Hawke had ever experienced, she would later admit to Bela and Merrill, but it was definitely the most passionate and probably the closest to the kisses she’d seen in the movies.

Hawke was smiling when he pulled back despite the serious nature of the situation. “Stay close to me!” Anders said firmly, taking her hand once more and tucking her close to his body then plunging into the crowd streaming in the opposite direction.

The first person they came across was a woman so covered in blood that it was hard to determine what her injury actually was. Anders knelt next to her, immediately unslinging his rucksack from his shoulder and checking the woman’s pulse. Hawke watched him, rooted to her spot as she caught sight of blood pulsing steadily from a deep-gash on the woman’s thigh.

“Hawke are you with me?” Anders’ stern tone and the snapping of his fingers cut through her shock and brought her crashing back to the present. She shook her head to clear it and then knelt in the blood soaked grass opposite Anders. “I need you to focus, luv.”

“I’m good.” She said.

“Okay, look in my pack and find me the long rubber tube. We need to stop this bleeding if she’s going to live long enough to get to the A&E.”

Hawke dug through the bag until she found a yellow rubber tube about two feet in length, the kind usually used for strengthening exercises.

“Found it.” She declared.

“Good, now I need you to tie that as tightly as you can above the wound on her leg.”

Hawke hesitated, remembering a first aid class she’d taken in primary school long ago. “But won’t she lose her leg if there’s no blood-flow?”

Anders glanced up at her with his eyes hard and his mouth set into a grim line. “Not if I can help it.” He said.

As she worked on tying the tourniquet, Anders was rolling his neck and shoulders and gently shaking his hands as if he was working himself up for something. Then as Hawke watched Anders took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and went very still. When he opened them again his eyes began to burn with a bright blue light, and his hands glowed with spheres of pure Fade energy. Anders took the orbs and passed them over the woman’s body, pausing when he found a wound to heal. Eventually he came to hover over the gash on her leg and slowly, as the Fade energy suffused the wound, the bleeding slowed to a trickle before stopping altogether, and the life-threatening laceration was suddenly barely deep enough to merit stitches.

Anders sat back on his heels, his brow slick with perspiration, and panting for breath. Hawke stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re a spirit healer!” she said in amazement.

She had heard stories about mage-healers so intimately connected to the Fade that they could contact benevolent spirits in order to call on their aid for powerful healing spells. It was a practice outlawed in most Circles on account of the fact that the Chantry deemed it too closely related to blood magic and demonic possession, but it was said that in Ferelden’s Circle it was still practiced among the most skilled apprentices and mages.

Anders smiled at her words and nodded. “Untie the band.” He said, and his voice had a strange quality to it. It was deeper in tone and timber, as if he were talking through cupped hands to project his voice. “She’ll survive long enough to get to hospital, and there are more who need our help…”

Across the field the protestors had cleared out, and only the injured and those who had stayed behind to help remained. Ambulances were finally arriving, having had a difficult time maneuvering through the throngs of people streaming in the opposite direction. The Templar peace-keepers were loading people into the backs of the emergency vehicles as quickly as possible, so that the investigation into what had occurred could begin. Hawke thought she saw a vehicle boldly stenciled with the word “SEEKERS” across the hood, but she quickly lost sight of it.

Anders and Hawke treated a teenaged boy with a broken leg who hadn’t been injured by the initial explosion, but rather by the chaos that had broken out in the aftermath. His older sister had stayed with him, begging passers-by for help until Anders finally dropped to her side and set her brother’s fractured leg in a make-shift splint. Hawke used her mobile to send a text to the teens’ parents alerting them that their children were alive and would be transported to the Kirkwall Royal Infirmary shortly as Anders used a little of his spirit healing to ease some of the boy’s pain. The young woman thanked them both through sobs of relief.

The next person they treated was an older man who had been directly hit by the explosion and was suffering from a burst ear drum and several wicked looking lacerations along the left side of his body. He hadn’t realized that Anders was there to help him at first, delirious from pain, and Hawke had to lean on his shoulders to keep him from struggling as Anders did his work. The man lost consciousness before they finished, and just as Anders stabilized him the medics showed up with a stretcher. Anders rattled off a list of medical jargon that Hawke could only understand every other word of as the paramedics bundled the man into an ambulance.

“We’ve got him.” One paramedic said, putting a reassuring hand on Anders’ shoulder. “Thanks for your help, mate. But we’ve got it from here.”

Anders took a step back and seemed to deflate a little.

“You were incredible.” Hawke said after a moment had passed and the ambulance sped off with the patient inside.

Anders gave her a wry grin and said. “You weren’t half-bad yourself. I mean it, not too many civilians can handle this sort of situation and keep a level-head.”

As Anders started looking for any other wounded that hadn’t been seen to yet, a Templar came up behind them and tried to usher them off the field. “This is a restricted area.” The young man said, his blonde hair, face, and bright crimson uniform were matted with dark patches of blood. “Everyone must evacuate the premises for an ongoing investigation.”

“Here, let me take a look at that.” Anders said without missing a beat, even as the young man guided them towards the street.

The Templar stared at Anders with a dazed expression on his face, as if he wasn’t really sure what was going on. Anders pushed him onto a park bench and started to examine the cut on his face that had coated his lips and lower-jaw in crimson. A bit of shrapnel had lodged into the man’s bicep as well, tearing his sleeve and the flesh beneath it.

“What’s your name?” Anders asked, as he started to prod at the wound on his arm.

“Cullen.” The young man said. “Cullen Rutherford.”

Hawke’s eyebrows jumped up to her hairline as she realized that she knew this man. He was one of the higher ranking Templars in Kirkwall, and one who oversaw mages’ magic suppression procedures in the Circle. Hawke had accompanied her sister for the procedure more than once and they had giggled over how handsome the young Knight-Captain was.

“And you’re a Templar, am I right? Your rank, Ser Cullen?”

“Knight-Captain… I was here to make sure my men didn’t react poorly to any jeering from the crowd.”

“Well, you did an admirable job of it.” Anders was gritting his teeth even as he said it. “Is that a Ferelden accent I hear?” He asked, moving on to less sensitive topics.

“Yes, my family is from Honnleath, near Redcliffe.” Cullen replied. “…Are you Ferelden yourself?”

Anders nodded and made an affirming noise in the back of his throat.

Cullen blinked and squinted in Hawke’s direction as if trying to place her face. “Serah Hawke?” the Templar asked, and Hawke grimaced at being recognized after enjoying relative anonymity for most of the day.

“Pleased to meet you, Ser Cullen.” She said with a polite nod.

“Look, ah… What I’m about to do, it isn’t strictly legal.” Said Anders. “So please don’t arrest me until _after_ I finish healing you alright? These wounds could become serious if you’re not treated right away…”

“Anders are you sure that’s a good idea?” Hawke asked, suddenly worried that Anders would lose the freedom he held so dear.

“I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t necessary, luv.” He said, his eyes soulful as they met hers, impressing her with how serious a situation the young Knight-Captain was in.

He flashed her a reassuring grin before once more focusing his attention inward, and then pressing a glowing hand to the Templars’ arm. Cullen flinched away from Anders at the sight of his magic, but he relaxed with a relieved groan as the wound began to knit itself back together and the pain began to fade. The men shared a meaningful look as Anders moved on to heal the cut on his face. The whole process took less than ten minutes, but for Hawke the tension made it last an eternity.

“Alright, your wounds are healed, but you’ve still lost a lot of blood. Maker knows how you’re still standing… Drink this, it will help restore some of your electrolytes.” Anders pressed a bottle of sports drink into Cullen’s trembling hands.

“Thank you.” Cullen said, when Anders had finally finished. The bloody cut on his face was now no more than a pink scar across his lip. He looks even more dashing now, Hawke thought absently.

“But really, you _must_ evacuate the premises now.” Cullen said, giving Anders another meaningful look. “This is a crime scene and restricted to civilian access.”

“Right away, _knight-captain_.” Anders promised, not needing to be given a hint twice, as he shouldered his bag and took Hawke’s hand in his own pulling her down the road towards home.

 

* * *

 

Both Hawke and Anders were spattered in blood, and people gave them a wide berth as they walked down the street. The Underground had been shut down with all the chaos in the city at the moment, so it was dark by the time the lift doors slid shut behind them.

Anders glanced at his mobile and huffed out a breath. “I can’t believe I haven’t been called in to the A&E to cover some of this mess…” He said.

Hawke eyed him from head-to-toe and she could tell that he was already dead on his feet. The healing spells he had performed had taken a lot out of him, not to mention the stress of the events that had transpired. Hawke was exhausted just from the small role she had played, she couldn’t imagine how tired Anders was, and yet he still wanted to help.

“They must have it covered, otherwise they would have called you, right?” Hawke said, and Anders hummed in agreement.

The lift dinged their arrival on Hawke’s floor, but she found that she was reluctant to be on her own after such a day. “Why don’t you come round for dinner?” Hawke asked, standing with her body blocking the doors from shutting.

Anders glanced up at her hopefully, and she could see how much he wanted to accept her invitation.

“I’ll order a pizza. You go get changed and take a shower or whatever, and it’ll be here by the time you finish.”

Anders’ smile was small and shy as he said: “Alright.”

Hawke grinned, wide and unapologetic. “Any requests?”

“Not pineapple.” Said Anders with his nose scrunched up in disgust.

Hawke laughed and moved so the lift could complete its journey up to Anders’ floor. “Not pineapple, then.”

It took Hawke a while to find a pizzeria open after the day’s events, and Anders had arrived by the time she finally put in their order. When she opened the front door he stood before her with damp hair, a clean set of clothes, and a six-pack of beer. The sound of metal tags jangling on a dog’s collar alerted Hawke to the impending arrival of a 100lb mabari.

“Caball,” Hawke said very seriously to the dog as she heard the first rumbles of a growl start in his chest. “This is Anders. Be _nice_ , he’s a friend.”

Caball cocked his head to one side and then sniffed at Anders’ trouser cuff curiously, as if to say that he found his mistress’ judgement on the matter questionable.

“He’s really quite friendly, just… very big.” She said, trying to reassure a clearly-uncomfortable Anders as he stepped inside around the beast. Hawke tried not to notice that Anders gaped a bit as he got a good look at his surroundings.

Her flat was on the larger side for the building; intended to be shared between two or three individuals rather than one woman and her dog.  The kitchen and the living room were separate entities, and she had enough space in the living room for a couch-telly set up _and_ a small dining table. Likewise, the bathroom contained an actual bath tub, and the spare bedroom currently housed her desk set and her dog.

“I didn’t know this building _had_ flats this nice.” He said.

Hawke blushed and shrugged uncomfortably, closing the door behind him and nudging Caball away from Anders.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to be rude.” Anders hastily covered his tracks. “I don’t interact with people much… Seems I’m a bit rusty.”

“No, it’s fine… It is a bit strange that I live here, I know.” 

“I’ve been wondering: how is it that there aren’t always paparazzi staking out the place?” Anders asked, as they moved through the hall to the living room.

Hawke smirked. “You remember Aveline from the other night?”

“Aveline? The girl with the red hair and the big muscles?”

“That’s the one. She’s the chief of police. There’s always someone on patrol in this neighborhood, what with the Estate and the park nearby, so she just asks them to keep an eye out for loiterers with cameras for me.”

“She sounds like a convenient friend to have.”

Hawke had to laugh at that, if only he knew the number of times she’d spent the night in a holding cell...

“Not really. She’s extra strict with Carver and I whenever we do get into trouble, since we _are_ friends and she doesn’t want to look soft. She knows I can handle the paparazzi, she only keeps an eye out because she worries about what would happen should the neighbors find out they have an heiress in their midst…” Hawke paused for breath and glanced at the clock; at least twenty minutes before the pizza arrived. “Would you mind letting in the delivery boy when he buzzes? I haven’t been able to clean up yet, and I’d absolutely murder to get out of these bloody clothes.”

Anders snorted. “Might be the wrong course of action for getting _away_ from blood; but to answer your question and for fear of being your victim, go right ahead.”

“Remotes’ on the table, if you want to watch the telly.” Hawke said as she moved towards the bathroom and her much-needed shower.

Steam filled the bathroom as Hawke washed away the blood and grime of the day. The hot water felt divine against her skin, and Hawke felt herself begin to relax by degrees. It was with a detached sort of interest that she finally realized her hands were shaking violently and her heart was beating like a jackhammer. In fact, if she really thought about it, they had been doing so ever since the first explosion that afternoon. She dropped the shampoo bottle and bar of soap multiple times whilst trying to wash, until she gave up and decided that she was clean enough and could finish the job after the adrenaline had worn off.

Hawke toweled off and dressed quickly, afraid of where her thoughts might wander if she were left alone for too long. As she re-entered the sitting room she could see that the television was on and tuned into the local news channel.

“Would you mind if we watched something else?” Hawke asked wincing at the video footage of the explosions playing whilst the news anchors read transcripts of whatever the latest press release speculated. Anders turned to glance at her over the back of the sofa.

“I wouldn’t, but it’s on all the channels… I’ve checked.” He said sheepishly, pointing the remote at the screen and flipping through a few of them to prove his point. Hawke sighed and dropped onto the couch next to him, the exhaustion of the last few hours was finally beginning to catch up with her.

“Pizza came while you were in the shower.” Anders said then stood and made his way into the kitchen. “I popped it in the oven to keep warm.”

Hawke felt a little bit guilty for not helping him as she heard him rummaged around the cupboards in search of plates and cutlery. But her weariness outweighed her guilt so she just shouted a few directions hoping that minimal effort would be enough in this case.

It was then that her phone rang with an ominous jingle. The jingle itself was not overtly ominous, but the person Hawke had assigned it to on her phone had forever tainted the vaguely musical melody by association. So she was more than a little relieved that it wasn’t actually her mother on the other end of the line when Hawke decided to accept the call.

“Andraste’s flaming tits, Merri!” Carver’s voice sounded almost relieved over the sound waves. “We’ve been trying to get hold of you for hours!”

Hawke frowned. “I swear, I haven’t gotten any calls.” She said.

“Yeah, we figured. News has been saying that the phone lines in the city have been tied up all day cause of all the people trying to get in touch with their families.”

Hawke felt a small stab of guilt over the fact that she hadn’t even really spared a thought for her family’s safety in the midst of the chaos.

“Well, you’ve gotten hold of me now.” She said with a shrug. By this time Anders had returned from the kitchen with two plates of pizza, napkins and two glasses. He set them on the coffee table and Hawke smiled up at him apologetically and mouthed the word ‘Family,’ to explain why she was currently being rude to her guest.

“Hello Sister, Mum’s been beside herself since she heard.” Bethany suddenly cut in, probably picking up a receiver in another part of the mansion. “You should come back to the mansion tonight, Mum would definitely appreciate all her little chicks coming home to roost.”

Hawke winced. “I can’t Beth, I’ve got someone at my flat…”

“What?! Who?” Carver gasped.

And then the voice of the person Hawke had been dreading to deal with came on the line. “Marian Ginevra Hawke! Where in the Maker’s name have you been!?”

“Oh, bollocks.” Hawke groaned.

“Don’t you ‘oh, bollocks’ me, young lady! I have been worried sick about you!”

“Mum, I’m fine!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. You’re not too old for a spanking if you don’t get your arse over here this instant!”

“Mum!” Hawke protested, and it was then that Anders gently plucked the phone from Hawke’s ear and pressed it to his own.

“Madame Hawke?” Anders said, but Hawke couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end, save for a high-pitched buzzing vaguely in her mother’s vocal register. Hawke brought her hands up to cover her face and braced herself for the worst.

“My name is Anders, I’m a friend of your daughter’s… Yes, well, we only met recently so it’s unlikely that I would have come up in conversation… Yes, I was at the rally with her… Er – no, I did not ‘entice’ her into attendance. I didn’t know she was going to be there at all, I just happened to run into her there… I’m here because Marian invited me…” Anders’ face flushed a little. “I assure you Madame, I have no such intentions towards your daughter…” Hawke groaned in agony, realizing that her mother had just asked Anders if he intended to sleep with her tonight. Anders’ face softened. “Yes, ma’am, she’s fine… I am sure. I’m a health-care professional. And if she _were_ injured she’d be in hospital by now rather than in her flat, I assure you… Yes, ma’am I will certainly keep an eye on her tonight… I promise. Now, would you mind terribly if she called you back later? We’ve had a rather trying day, and we just ordered a pizza which is starting to get cold… Oh, well thank you very much ma’am. I know you must have been so worried about your daughter… Yes, it was quite alarming to say the least. But we’re safe now and that’s what matters…” Anders paused for a few moments to listen and then broke into bright laughter, apparently at something her mother said. Hawke eyed him suspiciously. “Well, I can’t claim to know her mind on _that_ … I hope to make your acquaintance soon as well, ma’am… Yes, I’ll see to it that she calls you in the morning… Goodnight, ma’am.” Then he hung up the phone and placed it on the coffee table.

Hawke stared at him with narrowed eyes.

“What?” Anders asked when he noticed her expression.

“Were you _flirting_?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you just get me out of trouble by _flirting_ with my mother?”

Anders scrunched up his nose and took a bite of his pizza. “I wasn’t _flirting_ with her.”

“Then what _were_ you doing, pray tell?” Hawke laughed.

“I _charmed_ her; there’s a difference.” Anders insisted.

“Oh, right.” Hawke snorted.

“Well, either way I just got you out of a shouting match with her, so eat the pizza while it’s still hot lest my efforts be in vain.”

Hawke had to laugh at his dramatic choice of words, but did as he said anyway.

Several hours later, after the pizza had been consumed and the beer had been drunk, Hawke awoke to the feeling of a cold, wet nose being shoved in her face as Caball begged her to let him out to do his business. Hawke groaned and burrowed back into the warm cocoon that she had been wrapped in until that moment. Then Anders shifted behind her and she came fully awake.

They had fallen asleep spooned together on her couch, with her as the little spoon on the outside and his long limbs wrapped around her keeping her warm and safe, with a blanket wrapped around them both. Hawke squirmed a little as a jolt of happiness wriggled up and down her spine, but this woke Anders and he shifted further away from her as he tried to take in his surroundings.

“Mmmm, what does the dog want?” Anders said in a voice gravelly with sleep.

“He needs to go out.” Hawke replied softly.

“Dun-wanna-move.” Anders said slurring his words together.

Hawke sat up to answer her dog’s begging and bent to kiss Anders’ forehead before she stood. “Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to.”

When she returned from walking Caball, Anders had donned his trainers and was standing by the door awkwardly.

“I should probably go. I’ve got work in a couple hours.” He said, refusing to meet her gaze. Hawke rolled her eyes mentally at his sudden display of nerves.

“Anders?” she called softly, and his chin lifted to meet her gaze. “Would you like to go out for dinner with me tomorrow night?” she asked.

“You mean, kind of like a date?” and his eyes were light with hope.

Hawke smiled. “Yes, kind of exactly like a date.” She said.

Anders smiled back, and bobbed his head as if considering her words. “Sounds alright.”

Hawke really rolled her eyes this time. “Forget it, if you’re not going to be enthusiastic about it.”

Anders lunged forward and grabbed her round the waist, pulling her close.

“ _Yes_.” He said emphatically. “I didn’t mean it. I would be _honored_ to go on a date with you.”

“That’s more like it.” Hawke said with a grin, then pressed a quick peck to the corner of his mouth. “Until tomorrow then.”

“Until tomorrow.” He replied and slipped out the door.

The rest, as they say, is history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you, to everyone who has stuck with me. Fortunately, in attempting to work through the writer's block that gripped me trying to finish this bit I've been able to work on the next part of this series. 
> 
> As always; if you liked it, or have something constructive to say, please leave a review! Reviews keep me motivated and help me to improve.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this story, please let me know! Feedback is so helpful in terms of motivation, so something as simple as "liked it!" would be just as appreciated as something longer. 
> 
> I have a bunch of plans for future stories in this 'verse but I am also open to prompts, feel free to leave some in the comments section if you got 'em. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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